


Impossible To Ignore

by tinydancer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Necromancy, Post-Season 2, Slow Build, Warlock!Stiles, contains a few elements of spoilers revealed for season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinydancer/pseuds/tinydancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is cursed to appear dead. It doesn’t freak Stiles out half as much as it probably should because as Beacon Hills’ resident warlock, he’s on a personal mission to break the curse. In the meantime, Stiles discovers that the only way to communicate with Derek is through his dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible To Ignore

On the night Derek finds out that Stiles practices magic, Derek doesn't really know what to do with the information. 

Scott mentions it so casually, as if it were a common known fact. Derek honestly has no time to think about what Scott had said and it’s fair to say that he has other things to think about. The Alpha pack had taken Isaac, his last remaining beta, the only one who had stuck by him in the end. But now it seemed that Scott was willing to help, to come to Derek's side once more but only because the situation called for it. 

Scott had agreed to help find Isaac and break him out of whatever place the Alphas were keeping him. Scott's help meant Stiles' help... which apparently meant magic.

"...Stiles says the spell will help him find where they kidnapped Isaac," Scott's tone is so obviously begrudging that Derek almost rolls his eyes. "So Stiles asked for something that's Isaac's so he can use a spell to track wherever he is." It's hard to ignore the way Scott's expression grows disdainful with each word.

"You don't like that Stiles is using magic.” 

Scott hesitates and then nods, "He's only new at it. He thinks he can do a lot with it but even _I_ know that magic isn't something you can play around with."

"This isn't playing around."   

"I know that. I just," Scott clenches his hands into fists. "I'm worried it'll take too much energy out of him. He's just a beginner, so I don't want anyone taking advantage of him." He eyes Derek seriously, heavy with implication. Derek _does_ roll his eyes this time.

“Isaac keeps his clothes in the bag upstairs. I'm sure you can sniff it out." 

Derek turns his back on Scott, dismissing him. 

"Derek, I have other things to take care of so you need to take the bag to Stiles.”

Derek doesn't really know what Scott would have to take care of that was more important than rescuing Isaac. He has a feeling that the Argent-girl was no longer in the equation and knowing Scott's tendencies to always be the hero, it was kind of off-putting that he wasn't stepping up to do everything.

"Stiles is expecting something before midnight, 'cause that's when he's doing the spell."

Once again, Derek has to fight the urge to ask how the hell Stiles Stilinski of all people had started practicing magic. He shakes his head as if to rid the question. If the answer is important, he’ll find out soon enough.

___

" _Really?_ The front door?" 

Stiles is wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of old jeans, which isn’t actually unusual. But what throws Derek off is the hair. It’s all grown-out and sticking up in tufts, which implies that Stiles has been running his hands through it. A lot. It only catches Derek off-guard because, has it really been this long since he last saw the kid? The last time Derek had seen Stiles up-close was probably the night Gerard was taken down and that had been almost a month ago. But he figures it had been a month since Derek has taken to avoiding town and in extent, avoiding Scott's pack. Ever since Jackson decided to leave town, there was really no need for Derek to interact with any of the high school kids anyway. The past month was dedicated to getting his alpha shit together and training Isaac. Sure, there were times his wolf howled for a larger pack now and again, like he howled for Boyd and Erica. But Derek figured these kids, including  Scott and his _pack_ , wanted nothing to do with Derek. So he left the matter alone.

“Hello? Earth-to-Derek?” A pair of hands waving at his face breaks Derek out of his thoughts. “Dude, you can’t just drag your werewolf ass to my font porch and then stare at me all zoned-out. Throw me a bone here.” Stiles snickers at his own joke, which besides being completely unnecessary and lame, doesn’t even make sense.

“I brought Isaac’s things.” Derek says instead of  dignifying that with a proper response and pushes his way past Stiles and into the living room.

“Wha- Hey!” Derek can hear Stiles catching up to him as he heads up the stairs and towards Stiles’ bedroom. As soon as he steps inside the room, he’s hit with an overwhelming smell of herbs and his nose twitches a little at the hint of wolfsbane somewhere in the room. Because, _right_. Stiles practices magic. Derek ignores his senses, dumps Isaac’s bag on the bed unceremoniously and then crosses his arms. 

“Is that all?” He asks, staring right at Stiles. Stiles gapes at him.

“First off, _rude_. Not even a ‘hey Stiles. How have you been this long and tedious summer?’And second, you can’t just come into my room uninvited, using the front door might I add. Jesus, what if my dad was home?” Now Stiles is crossing his arms.

“I could only hear one heartbeat and I knew it was yours,” Derek says, before realising that Stiles might ask why he can recognise Stiles’ heartbeat in the first place. It’s not a question Derek is willing to answer but it might have something to do with the two times he was paralysed, both while next to Stiles. Derek had been forced into memorising the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat in order to feel anchored. Or something like that.

Thankfully, Stiles has other things on his mind, he narrows his eyes at Derek. “Whatever. Sometimes I wish werewolves had to be invited into homes before they could barge in, like the vampires in _The Vampire Diaries_. I’m telling you, like 75 per cent of our problems involve werewolves or kanimas barging in and kidnapping people.”

Derek snorts, “This isn’t _The Vampire Diaries_ , Stiles.”

“God, you think I don’t know that?” Stiles says, shaking his head. Derek watches as he picks up Isaac’s bag from his bed and rummages through the contents. “I guess in that scenario, I would be Bonnie the witch and be the go-to person who basically solves all your supernatural arses.” 

It seems more like Stiles is talking to himself so Derek doesn’t bother answering. He isn’t going to admit that he might actually know what Stiles is rambling on about since Laura used to watch that crap sometimes. She would claim it was ‘for research purposes incase they got any of our lore right’ when actually she would sit down with a tub of ice-cream and watch marathons. Derek vaguely wonders if Stiles watched it for the same reasons, since he seems like the type of guy who goes all-out when researching.

“Okay, this should be enough.” Stiles says, wrinkling his nose at the bag. “It probably helps that you didn’t wash his clothes before bringing them, but dude, I’m not even the one with werewolf senses so I don’t know how you can handle the smell.”

Derek shrugs, he’s used to Isaac’s smell by now and it’s not like they had a washing machine in the Hale house anyway. The bag was where Isaac put his clothes after they finished training yesterday afternoon.

“Is that all?” Derek asks again. 

“Yeah, yeah” Stiles heads towards his desk and waves a hand at him absentmindedly. “I, as the owner of the house, give you permission to see yourself out of my house.”

Derek snorts and heads out without replying. He’s at the stairs when Stiles pokes his head out, “Oh and remember, I’m doing the spell at midnight. I’ll probably do it at your place since my dad’ll be home tonight. I’ll be chanting freaky rituals and stuff, and my dad almost caught me twice. I’m sure he thinks I’m a part of some cult by now.” Stiles shrugs like it means nothing, his tone a little too nonchalant.

Derek was going to ask then, ask Stiles where he learnt his magic from. Figure out if Stiles knew all along, or he recently discovered his ability. If he was the type of warlock that Derek was familiar with or something entirely different. Not that Derek has much experience with warlocks anyway. All he knows is that they’re rare and that the magic is passed down through genes appearing every once in a while throughout generations. His only recalling of any magical being is a vague memory of a witch who had come to the house to discuss some territory issues with the Hale pack. Derek was young, so he doesn’t remember her face. But he _does_ remember the young wolf inside of him feeling unease at the presence of a someone with so much power, he could sense the electricity coming off of her in waves. He remembers feeling a little afraid of not knowing what the witch was capable of. 

He looks at Stiles, who still had tufts of hairs sticking out in every direction. Stiles, who was staring right back at him.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Derek says finally, after they had stared at each other for what was probably longer than socially acceptable, not that Derek particularly cares.

“I do,” Stiles replies, almost immediately. He doesn’t waver, he doesn’t say anything else. So Derek nods and heads down the stairs. There are a few hours left till midnight.

***

Okay, so maybe meeting up at the Hale house during midnight hours is not on the list of Stiles’ best decisions of all time. Stiles was already kind of creeped out by the house and now it's pitch dark with only a sliver of the new moon and a few stars lighting the night. Not to mention the creepy Alpha pack symbol on the main door.

During the night, the Hale house was literally a postcard for haunted houses. Not that Stiles believed in ghosts, unless they were real. Which they could be? Hell if he knows, he’s only new to this supernatural stuff and even if he reads up on it a lot he has the common sense to not believe everything he reads just because some of it is real. And even if the ghosts _were_ real, they’d probably be Derek’s dead family - which. Oh, okay now he’s feeling guilty and a little sad about it. Jesus, why does he do this to himself?

Stiles’ whole body shivers as if to rid himself of the thought. 

Speaking of Derek, where the hell was he? Stiles had specifically said midnight at the Hale house, and even Scott wasn’t here yet. Muttering about tardy werewolves under his breath, he stumbles his way back to the Jeep in the dark. Maybe he could turn the headlights on for some source of light. 

He considers beeping the horn to emphasise exactly how impatient he is, (because Stiles figures that wherever Derek is, he can probably pick up on the noise) but then decides against it. Whatever, it’s Derek’s loss anyway. Isaac was never particularly a friend of Stiles, especially after that fun little conversation they had one time about killing Lydia and even less so now that Isaac is spending more and more time with Scott (meaning less time for Stiles, which, whatever. Stiles is used to it by now). But even with the little rivalry he has going on with Isaac, he’s not ready for him to be _kidnapped_. He thought Derek had agreed with Stiles on that particular notion, but apparently not. 

After fifteen more minutes of waiting and a series of angry texts to both Scott and Derek, Stiles decides that it’s about time he gets off his ass and starts setting up everything for the spell to work. He actually wanted Derek’s opinion on whether it would be easier for them to track Isaac using a spell to locate his exact location on a map or use a compass that would lead directly to him. Stiles was even considering using the teleporting spell he’d come across. But he had the decency to not entertain the idea for too long and imagining the look on Deaton’s face when he found out that Stiles tried the spell rendered the idea awful.

The map option was probably the one that Stiles is most comfortable with and Derek’s not present to disagree so the map spell is definitely a winner, according to Stiles.

It occurs to Stiles, not for the first time, that Derek could just sniff Isaac out. But there was obviously something the Alphas did to block out Derek’s awesome senses. It was a little off-putting, because why take Isaac when they had no intention to be tracked and hold some sort of bargain or werewolf treaty? Whatever the reason, Stiles knows it’s probably not a good thing and that Isaac could be getting tortured right now, oh and where the fuck was Derek again?   

“Stiles.”

Oh. Stiles tries to control his heart rate jumping in his chest, because Derek can hear it and it’s already embarrassing enough that Stiles actually jumped a little when Derek said his name.

“Every. Single. Time. Dude, can’t you make a non-dramatic, zero-creepiness entrance for once? Please? For the sake of my sanity?” Stiles flails only a little, because, yeah he’s utterly serious.

But typically, Derek isn’t listening and is instead frowning at the ground, where Stiles had drawn a circle and a few runes using chalk. 

“Did you do the spell already?” Derek asks.

“No. I was waiting for you. For a long time, might I add. Where the hell have you been?”

Derek glares at Stiles which was, wow, so original.  “I had to deal with something important.”

“More important than Isaac? The one guy who actually likes you enough to be in your pack?” Stiles counters, and Derek seems to suppress a wince, so okay maybe it was a little uncalled for.

“Erica and Boyd are with the Alpha pack too, I only found out now.” 

Stiles stops at that because, what? Does that mean they’re part of the Alpha pack now, like the Alphas’ betas? Or were they kidnapped and not rescued for almost a month? Jesus.

“How did you find out?” Stiles asks finally, because what else could he say?

“I have a source,” Derek says and when Stiles waits for him to go on, he hesitates. “Peter told me.”

“Peter? As in the, hey I killed a bunch of people and terrorised a few high schoolers because I’m an asshole, Peter? We’re trusting him as a source now?” Stiles scoffs.

“No one said you had to trust him,” Derek’s tone is stiff. 

“And I don’t,” Stiles agrees easily. “Now let’s start before my magic buzz gets impatient and starts shooting flames or something. I said midnight, not forty-five past.” 

Stiles finally finishes off a rune and steps back to admire his work. 

“Where’s Scott?” Derek asks, just as Stiles pulls out the map and Isaac’s t-shirt from his bag. Stiles shrugs.

“Don’t know, he said he’d be here. Knowing him, he’ll be late but exactly on time to rescue us from any wild arm-cutting or kanima-including scenarios,” he gives Derek a meaningful look which hopefully conveys what Stiles has been thinking a lot lately. Which basically includes a variation of: hey Derek, you and I seem to get into a lot of scenarios that are life-or-death, so much so that I’ve practically lost count but not really, because I’m Stiles and I awesomely keep track of a lot of things. Is it coincidence or is fate messing with us?

But either Stiles didn’t convey the look well enough or Derek ignores it (Stiles suspects it’s the latter) because Derek moves down to touch at the runes Stiles had drawn earlier.

“You memorised these?” He asks, and sound begrudgingly impressed.

“Uh, yeah. All part of being the resident warlock or whatever,” Stiles replies. Derek looks like he wants to say something then, but he’s interrupted by Stiles’ phone vibrating. It’s a text from Scott.

_Start w/out me. I’ll be there in 10._

Stiles doesn’t bother to reply and shoves his phone in his pocket again.

“It’s official. We’re starting without Scott,” he raises his eyebrows at Derek. “You might want to get out of the circle while I do the spell.”

Derek doesn’t reply, only glares a little as he steps out. It occurs to Stiles then that this is the first time he performed a spell in front of Derek, hell, it might even be the first time Derek saw a spell being performed for all Stiles knows.

For some reason the thought makes Stiles nervous, which he really doesn’t need right now, thank you very much.

He flexes his fingers, feeling the buzz of the magic prickling at his fingertips.

***

“Derek, slow down. You’re going to kill us.”

Derek ignores Scott in favour of stepping a little more vigorously on the accelerator. 

“Seriously, Derek. We’ll get there as long as we don’t die first.”

Derek grits his teeth. Scott obviously doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand that Isaac could be getting tortured and that Erica and Boyd could be dead. He doesn’t understand that Derek has to get to the place Stiles had marked _now_ before his wolf goes crazy and demands that Derek shifts into full alpha form and just run there. 

They’re not speaking for almost an hour after that and Derek has no intention of breaking their silence until Scott’s phone goes off for the thirteenth time in a row.

“What the fuck, Scott. Pick it up.” Derek says, because there's only a certain number of times you can grit your teeth at Scott’s ringtone.

Scott shoots him a glare and then slumps a little, sighing.

 

“It’s Stiles. He’s still angry that we didn’t bring him along. Keeps sending me threatening texts too.”

Derek frowns. “If he came, he’d be in a lot of danger.”

“Yeah, I keep telling him that but he doesn’t listen.” Scott sounds frustrated, which is understandable. What is Stiles thinking? This isn’t a game, he could get hurt and he can’t heal like Scott or Derek can. “And anyway,” Scott continues. “He thinks his magic is enough to fight against the Alphas, which it totally isn’t.” 

Derek frowns again, but this time he’s disagreeing with Scott. Because after seeing Stiles perform magic, it was pretty clear to Derek just how powerful, or potentially powerful, Stiles is. Derek had stared at Stiles as chanted he out spells, because this was _Stiles_ that could perform magic. The same Stiles that told Derek he wasn’t afraid of him, when he so clearly was. The same Stiles that held Derek up in a pool for hours and then never actually asked for anything in return.

“We’re almost there,” Scott says, after another round of silence. 

Derek grips the steering wheel, feeling the tension build up, “Be ready for an attack, they can probably hear us coming.” 

___

Then sun is on the brink of rising when they finally arrive. The sky has a purple hue to it and the stars are beginning to fade. Scott is already wolfed out next to him as they creep towards what looks like a warehouse. There are faint noises coming from inside the building, but the noises that he’s picking up on are strangely muffled like Derek’s never heard before, like there was a huge bubble of something surrounding the warehouse. 

“I think something’s not right,” Scott whispers next to him. But Derek has no time to agree because there’s a voice behind them.

“Oh you’re quite right in thinking that something is definitely not right.” A woman’s voice. Derek turns around quickly, because what the fuck, why didn’t he sense anyone approaching them? 

The woman has tan skin and long, dark hair. She’s wearing no shoes, standing alone in between a row of trees. “Derek Hale, I presume?” She asks and Derek doesn’t miss her eyes flashing red.  

“Who are you?” Derek asks and he’s not wolfed out but he flashes his eyes in response. There’s a pause during which Scott is practically thrumming with tension next to him, probably wondering why he can’t smell the werewolf on the woman like they’re supposed to.

The woman begins to grin slowly, like she knows exactly what they’re thinking.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” She waves a hand at herself. “I can only be heard if I want to be, only be smelled if I allow it,” the grin widens as if she had just finished a particularly good joke and is waiting for a response. 

“Where are my betas?” Derek asks instead. The woman’s grin fades then.

“Your betas? They’re not _your_ betas. You, Hale, was deemed unworthy of being an alpha and it was my responsibility to… recruit your former betas and teach them the true meaning of being a werewolf. The true meaning of being” she smiles then, slow and sickly sweet. “of being submissive.” 

“Derek,” Scott says in a tone that is somehow angry and a warning at the same time. The woman cocks her head at Scott then.

“And you’re a curious one, aren’t you?” She says to Scott. “You don’t smell like his beta, in fact you don’t smell like anyone’s beta. You’re not an alpha, yet you smell like an alpha which means you have pack.” She tilts her head, making a thoughtful sound.

By now, Derek would have attacked her and he would have told Scott to run straight to the warehouse. But there was something seriously off-putting in the way either of them couldn’t catch her scent.

“How come I can’t smell you?” Scott asks the woman. He’s obviously been resisting the urge to ask the question for a while.

The grin was a back. “Oh, I can answer that easily,” she turns her head in the direction of the woods behind her and calls out in a sweet-song voice, “Edmund?” 

“We don’t have time for this, Scott.” Derek says under his breath but he knows the woman can obviously hear them, even though she seems distracted, leaving them with her back turned.

“I know, but I I have a feeling we can’t take her down.” Scott snaps back. It might be true but Derek wasn’t going to admit it out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I’ll distract her. Go find Isaac,” Derek grits out and gets into a fighting stance. “Go.” 

Scott looks like he’s about to argue, but he nods and sprints towards the building. The woman doesn’t even make a move to stop him.

She’s still facing the woods and Derek crouches before leaping right at her with his fangs and claws out. 

But Derek never lands on the ground. There’s a flash of blinding white light and suddenly, he’s suspended in mid-air. 

There’s a laugh from behind a tree and the face of a teenage boy with dark hair emerges from the woods, still laughing. He has his hands pointed towards Derek and there is an obvious stream of magic connecting Derek, still frozen mid-air, to the boy’s fingertips.

“Oh Edmund, you always liked making a dramatic entrance.”

The teenager smiles up at the woman, “I know it pleases you, Kali.” 

“True. But if you’d been a little faster you would have caught the other one,” she chides, but there was still fondness in her tone. 

Derek watches as the boy’s eyes widen, nodding quickly. How old was this kid, fourteen? Fifteen?

Kali looks at Derek then, as if remembering he was still there. “He’s exquisite, isn’t he? Such an ambitious young man and such a powerful warlock for so young,”  She pulls at the boy’s arm and stokes his hair gently. “He’s one of the last of his kind, so he’s determined to put his powers to good use.”

Derek can’t help it, his thoughts immediately go to Stiles. He distantly wonders if Stiles even knows he might be one of the last warlocks on earth. He tries clenching his fists, tries fighting the force that’s keeping him in the air. But it’s almost like being paralysed again and the familiar feeling of helplessness and persistence comes over him.

“But what to do with him?” Kali asks the kid, as if oblivious to Derek’s struggles, still stroking the boy’s hair. “I could force him to submit and steal the precious not-alpha he brought with him…” Derek watches as she smiles down at Edmund.  “Or we could teach him a lesson. Leave a message to those pesky would-be alphas out there.”

“I like the second one,” Edmund replies, smirking. Kali nods and Derek’s falling to the ground. He tries to get up immediately but Edmund’s fast and Derek’s bound by the magic again. 

“Hmm, do make the message clear, sweetie.” Kali says.

Derek has no time to react. No time to do anything. There’s another flash of blinding light and abruptly, the world disappears before his eyes until all he can see is white. 

***

Stiles’ phone goes off at about exactly the minute he decides to rest his eyes for a while. He’s been excessively stressing over the fact that Scott and Derek are barging into the Alpha pack’s territory without a proper plan, and more importantly, without _Stiles_. He was tempted to follow them anyway, just because he’s a stubborn ass. But he may or may not owe Scott this one after the conversation they had had about the night Stiles was kidnapped by Gerard freaking Argent.

Except, Stiles has magic now. Or more correctly, he knows now how to wield magic properly (because he’s always had the magic, according to Deaton). Stiles would have made a badass asset to the little alliance Scott and Derek have going on, but whatever. Best friends are allowed to be jerks if they’re jerks only because they want you to be safe. 

The phone’s still buzzing and Stiles blinks at the screen. It’s Scott.

“Scott?” Stiles can’t help the relief from flooding his voice. “What happened? Are you all right? Please tell me you’re all right and that you and Derek saved everyone’s werewolf ass in one piece.”

“Stiles,” Scott sounds cautious. Stiles’ heart clenches because something’s wrong. He can feel it. “It’s Derek.” Stiles can hear another voice in the background, distracting Scott momentarily.

“What about Derek?” Stiles asks, urgency creeping in with every word spoken. “Scott, what happened?”

“No. He’s not,” Scott pauses, “he’s still alive.”

“But?” Stiles prods, he doesn’t like where this is heading.

“There was a warlock there, Stiles. I think he must’ve been really powerful ‘cause there were like these weird magical shields everywhere and,” Scott takes another breath. “I think he must’ve done something to Derek while I went to find Isaac…because he’s not dead but he _looks_ dead. His heart’s not beating and he’s not even breathing. But he’s not dead.”

“How are you so sure?” Stiles demands. He’s standing up now, searching the room for his car keys. 

“I can’t explain it. He still feels alive when I sense him. Like, I can still feel the presence of an alpha and everything. Isaac can too.” 

Stiles pauses at that. “Wait, you got Isaac out?”

“Yeah, man. He’s not in perfect shape but he’s fine.”

“And Erica and Boyd?” Stiles asks, the image of Derek’s grim expression earlier that night clear in his mind. 

“There were a lot of shields,” Scott explains. “I was lucky that Isaac heard us coming and was ready to escape.”

“Okay,” Stiles takes a breath. “Okay. Just let me know how far you guys are so I can take a look at Derek.” What Scott described is not something Stiles is familiar with, but he might find something in the spell books he’s been collecting.

“We’ll be in Beacon Hills probably in a few hours. I’m taking Derek and Isaac to my place.” 

“All right, I’ll meet you there,” Stiles replies and Scott hangs up. 

Stiles takes a deep breath, taking a moment to process everything.

So, the Alpha pack has a warlock on their side. A very powerful one by the sound of it. And there’s something wrong with Derek, something that’s up to Stiles to fix because it involves magic. Stiles runs his hands through his hair and exhales.

He looks at the stacks of spell books and articles scattered over his desk. Maybe an hour will be enough time to research what the hell was wrong with Derek and whether there’s even a cure.

***

It’s almost 9 in the morning when Stiles hears them, the Camaro pulling up on the McCall driveway. Stiles is already on his feet, quickly placing the spell book on the breakfast table.

“They’re here?” Mrs. McCall says, casting Stiles with the same worried but determined expression she had been wearing all night -- or morning more like. 

Stiles nods and follows her outside. Isaac’s already out of the car, helping Scott lift Derek out of the left door. 

“Get him into the spare bedroom,” Mrs. McCall says and both Isaac and Scott grunt affirmative while they’re trying to find the right footing to carry Derek into the house. Stiles has enough time to take a glimpse at Derek while they’re carrying his body in. He doesn’t look dead. His eyes are closed so that probably helps but it mostly just looks like he’s sleeping.

Once they’ve put Derek down on the spare bed, Mrs. McCall pulls Scott away. Probably to give him some sort of parenting lecture about underestimating the amount of danger he’d be in. Stiles doesn’t disagree but he can’t blame Scott because no one even guessed that they might have a warlock on the Alpha pack’s side.

He watches as Isaac carefully removes Derek’s leather jacket, which seems to be covered in blood. 

They’re silent until Stiles clears his throat and gives Isaac a sideways glance, “It’s good to see you in one piece,” he says.

Isaac nods while he finishes taking all of Derek’s t-shirt off. Stiles looks away quickly, before realising what he’s doing. It’s _Derek_. Not like Derek has any modesty in that front, especially where Stiles is concerned. He’s seen Derek’s chest and stupidly chiselled, perfect abs before.

But what he hasn’t seen, is Derek sleeping. Is it strange that he’s never really imagined Derek sleeping before? Logically, Stiles knows that everyone needs to sleep but it’s always been easy to think of Derek as constantly lurking and creeping around at night instead of sleeping.

Stiles has never imagined Derek like this, placed on a bed like freaking Sleeping Beauty, looking so vulnerable that Stiles can’t help but stare. Derek’s always been the guy to keep his guard up, so you can’t blame him for being a little fascinated, right?

“I’ll go ask Mrs. McCall for something to clean the dried blood up,” Isaac gets up from where he was crouching over Derek and meets Stiles’ eyes. “Scott told me you cast the spell that let them find me.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah man. And about Erica and Boyd…” 

“I saw them,” Isaac says before Stiles can finish. “I saw them while one of the alphas were taking me to a room. I don’t think they noticed me. If they sensed me, they didn’t let it show.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. 

“Well at least they have each other, right?” Stiles tries.

Isaac gives him a weak smile, a sort of tug at the corner of his lips. Stiles doesn’t know what else to say so he turns back to Derek as Isaac leaves the room. 

Stiles frowns at Derek’s body. It’s a little eerie that there’s no twitching, no steady rise and fall of his chest to show that he’s breathing. He’s probably as still as is possible, with his arms placed on the either side of his body. It’s weird to think that he’s not breathing but still alive. Actually it’s weird to think that his heart isn’t beating but he’s still alive. Does that mean because there’s no blood to warm up the body temperature, that he’s cold like a dead body? Stiles takes a few short steps to the bed and kneels besides Derek. 

“Uh, hey Derek,” he laughs nervously because he’s talking to a lifeless body. “Don’t mind me, just checking your pulse and temperature. To see if you’re, you know, alive? Or something.” 

He takes a hold of Derek’s wrist more gently than he even intended and holds it between his fingers. He can definitely feel a buzz of some sort of magic faintly through the wrist. Derek’s body is warm, which - huh. Stiles wasn’t expecting that. He checks for his pulse for anything faint to show signs that Derek was going to come back, just in case the spell is one of those wear-off and temporary spells. But after searching for a pulse for almost a minute, he gives up.

“What’s even wrong with him?” Stiles turns to see Scott standing at the doorway, his expression worried. “You think there’s a way to fix him?” 

Stiles stands up from where he was kneeling, “I don’t know, man. I’ve been researching as much as I can and all I’ve found that describes something like this are potions and stuff called the ‘living dead’. But the thing is, they all wear-off in an hour or so,” he looks at Scott. “How long has he been like this, anyway?”

Scott shrugs, “I don’t know, but definitely more than an hour. We found him like that but it looks like they must’ve tortured him or something before they did this to him. You think that changed anything?” 

“I have no idea,” Stiles says and if he’s feeling a little useless, who could blame him? He tried learning as much as he could about magic and spells in the short amount of time he discovered they’d be of use to him, but apparently it’s not enough. “Let’s just wait it out a day or so while I keep looking.”

Isaac comes into the room before Stiles can say anything more. He doesn’t glance at either of them as he moves past Scott and towards Derek’s body with a wet cloth. 

Stiles doesn’t want to think about how Derek is probably all Isaac has right now. He doesn’t really know how pack dynamics work, but being a werewolf in a pack is probably akin to thinking of that pack as your family.

Stiles knows the feeling of fear and dread that creeps on you, that crawls over your skin and weighs in your heart when you think that there’s a  possibility of losing the last of your family. It’s something he doesn’t wish on anyone, ever.

“Did you ask Deaton?” Scott asks, breaking Stiles out of his thoughts. 

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Yeah. He wasn’t much help either. Said something about how ‘being a warlock means that I shall know the power of magic intrinsically once I encounter it’ or something like that. It didn’t make a lot of sense. He obviously had no idea what was wrong with Derek either but wanted an excuse to sound wise and use the word intrinsically. Ms. Morrell said she’d drop off a few books she thinks might help. Both of them weren’t thrilled that I woke them up either, so…” Stiles trails off.

Isaac looks up from where he’s cleaning Derek’s blood, “Do you think we should tell Peter about this? Maybe he’d know something.” 

Well, it certainly wasn’t an option Stiles was looking forward to exploring but Isaac has a point. 

“Yeah, someone should probably tell him,” Scott sighs. “I don’t have a way to contact him though.”

“I’ll tell him,” Isaac says quietly, standing up from a now cleaner Derek. “We could probably use his help when we go back to get Erica and Boyd.”

Stiles gapes at that because wait, what? 

“No. No way are any of us going back until we’re prepared to face a fucking warlock that can apparently cast shields everywhere and make someone like Derek appear dead!” he waves a hand at Derek’s lifeless body for emphasis. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather know what the hell is going on before we risk our arses yet again.” He takes a deep breath, suddenly aware that both Isaac and Scott are staring at him. “Okay, all I’m saying is that the first part of the plan should be to cure Derek or see if this thing wears off, so that when he wakes up, maybe he could tell us a information about whoever did this to him. Then, after much preparing and planning and figuring out why the hell they captured Isaac, Erica and Boyd in the first place, then and only then will we go back.”

There’s a moment of silence and Stiles hopes that it means they’re actually thinking about what he said. It’s Isaac who breaks it though, looking at Stiles a little thoughtfully.

“But it wasn’t just us three though. It looked like they’ve got werewolves from all around California or maybe the whole country. Omegas and betas that smelled like different packs. It seemed like some actually wanted to be there,” he pauses. “I think they thought they were doing me a favour when they took me. They tried making me submit to them a few times while I was there but by the end of it Derek was still my alpha. They were probably planning on waiting for me to crack.” 

Stiles stares at Isaac, “Wait does that mean… does that mean the Alphas are building like, an army? Why else would they be recruiting all these werewolves?”

Stiles doesn’t even want to entertain the thought. An army of werewolves would be awesome in any other context but in real life.

“But why would they need an army? Maybe they just want a big pack?” Scott asks, but he sounds unsure. 

“I don’t know, but whichever it is… what if they come for you? What if they come back for both of you?” Stiles looks back and forth between Isaac and Scott with a familiar feeling of panic rising in his chest. If they took Scott…

“Then we’ll fight them. Beacon Hills is our territory,” Scott sounds determined but Stiles isn’t feeling as optimistic.

“Yeah a whole Alpha pack against what? Two teen wolves and maybe the help of psychopath who literally resurrected from his timely death?” 

“And we have you,” Isaac adds quietly. Stiles stops at that, his heart rate going down as he calms himself.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sags a little and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. But I still think we should be prepared for whatever’s coming at us. If Peter can help, maybe he has like, alliances with other packs and they can help us out if we need it. Do werewolves do that stuff?” He looks at Isaac for confirmation, who shrugs.

“I’m not sure. Derek’s never mentioned anything like that before.”

“In that case, hopefully Derek was just being the incommunicative bastard he is and Peter _does_ know about alliances. We could always ask Lydia to convince Jackson that we need him back in Beacon Hills if things look desperate. And if things seem more desperate than that, maybe asking Allison’s dad to -“ 

“Let’s focus on fixing Derek before getting into all this,” Scott interrupts quickly. 

Stiles narrows his eyes at Scott but nods. “Waking Derek up is Plan A, I’m talking about Plan B. It’s called being prepared, dude. Not that anyone cares about being prepared anymore, exhibit A: tonight’s events.”

“I’ll go find Peter,” Isaac says, probably trying to avoid any arguments that may take place.  

“Maybe I should come, too?” Scott looks at Isaac and he nods, already leaving the room. Scott gives Stiles a weak attempt at a reassuring smile and follows Isaac out.

“Try not to let Peter maim or double-cross you or anything,” Stiles calls out behind them. 

Once they’re gone, Stiles turns to face Derek. Derek, who’s lying on bed looking peaceful enough to be meditating in a freaking Japanese garden.

“Once I get your leather-loving werewolf ass out of this mess, you’re going to start appreciating me and stop shoving my head against steering wheels, even if I did deserve it, capice?” 

Of course, there’s no response. Stiles tries to smother the fear creeping up on him, the fear that he might fail. The fear that Derek will stay like this forever, dead to the world and all because Stiles couldn’t save him. 

“But I’m not going to let that happen,” he says it. So quietly, but it’s like a promise. “I’m going to fix you and you’ll be back.” 

He nods to himself before leaving the room. 

___

Stiles had spent the entire afternoon hunched over the McCall’s breakfast table while shifting through an impressive range of lore books, spell books and wikipedia articles. He had texted his dad earlier to tell him that he’d spent the night at Scott’s and not to wait up for him since he’d probably spend the rest of the day -- which for once was actually the truth. It didn’t help that his dad texted him back with a stoic: _Okay._ Was it strange that he was actually missing the days his dad would have replied with a lecture? Maybe say something about how Stiles should always warn him before pouncing him with surprise sleepovers and then go on to tell Stiles not to bother Melissa too much. It was too easy to lie to him these days, even if it technically wasn’t a lie this time. His dad had probably grown to expect everything his son says to be a half-truth at best.

Stiles shakes his head, because _no_. His mind will not go down that road, especially when he has such a huge task ahead of him which, for all his research, he still has no fucking clue how to solve.

The thought suddenly weighs on his shoulders. Sighing, he leans back against the chair as the past few hours finally takes it’s toll. He’s tired, so freaking tired. He stands up and the exhaustion is suddenly so intense that all he can do is work on autopilot to Scott’s bedroom and literally flop onto his bed. Scott shouldn’t mind since he’s currently out with Isaac, anyway. He buries his head in the pillow and hopes to whatever higher power there is that there’ll be no emergency to drag him out of bed.

***

When Stiles wakes up, it’s dark out and his mouth tastes too much like cotton. He groans and sits up, feeling disorientated like he always does after taking an unexpectedly long nap. His phone reads 7:34, which means Stiles napped for about four hours, tops. He groans again and stretches as he gets out of bed.

There seems to be no one in the house but he calls out anyway, just to be sure. He eyes the pile of books and papers that were shoved onto one side of the table, apparently to make room for someone’s dinner. He texts Scott before heading to the spare bedroom to check on Derek.

Someone must have placed a blanket over Derek, probably Isaac or Mrs. McCall. He looks exactly the same as he did when they brought him in during the earlier hours of the morning. It worries Stiles more than he’s willing to admit, he was really hoping it’d be something temporary. 

He’s about to leave when a thought suddenly occurs to him and he halts mid-step. What had Deaton said to him again? Something about how being a warlock means that he’d know the power of the magic after he encounters it? It had sounded like a load of B.S at the time but something about the dream he’d had during his nap makes the idea a little more appealing. Stiles doesn’t exactly remember the dream, but he has a hunch that it had something to do with knowing the power of magic intrinsically or whatever. 

He shrugs and decides to go with the gut feeling because he really has nothing to lose. From what he can make of it, encountering the magic probably entails trying to connect with the magic that surrounds Derek, so he kneels beside Derek, whose right hand is relaxed, palm facing upwards.

Stiles takes a deep breath and takes hold of Derek’s hand, he can sense the same buzz as he did earlier. Feeling utterly ridiculous, he links their fingers together so that he’s now completely holding Derek’s hand. 

He doesn’t know what to expect but he tries to focus on connecting the magic that surrounds Derek with his own. It takes a bit of effort seeing as half of his brain is still thinking that it’s a stupid idea.

He stays like that for a few seconds before his mind keeps wondering whether chanting a spell would make the connection easier. He’s lost on what spell he should use, so he just mumbles out a few random latin words stringed together. Yeah, Stiles has absolutely no idea what he’s doing.

He sighs and makes a move to unlink their fingers. He’s about to completely let go of Derek’s hand but he feels a quick zap and freezes in place. It was a weird sensation, almost like having something injected into his veins. Stiles is still working in the dark here, but his best guess is that the zap is from the foreign magic he finally encountered.

He can’t say it’s an epiphany but it’s definitely something like it when the idea comes to him. It’s like the answer had been staring him in the face the entire time and only now has he had enough focus for the idea to finally dawn on him.

It’s not a cure, not exactly. But it’s probably good enough for now. Stiles is kind of, sort of, really desperate to confirm the Derek is not in fact dead and he hasn’t been holding hands with a Derek who is dead.

He blinks down at their hands which are still frozen in place. Taking a deep breath, he links their fingers together again, this time a little more tightly. Stiles almost laughs at the thought of Derek suddenly waking up to Stiles holding his hand. It’s not that funny but it’s the kind of irony that the world has been throwing at him lately so it’s not out of the question either.

“Derek,” Stiles says and it comes out a little more tentatively than he expected. But then again, what did it matter? On the off-chance that Derek could still hear everything that was going on around him, Stiles’ tone of voice was probably the least of his worries. He clears his throat anyway.

“Okay, Derek. I’m gonna try something and you don’t get to say no because I’m trying to help you and there’s no way for you to say no, so I’m just going to take that as yes. Yes as in there’s absolute consent to the hand-holding we’re going to be doing. Anyway the lengthy hand-holding is a helpful thing not a creepy, bad-touch necromancy thing,” Stiles snaps his mouth shut because of course he’s feeling stupid, even if Derek can’t hear him he’s allowed to feel embarrassed for himself.

“All right, here goes nothing,” he mumbles and then makes an effort to relax his body. He closes his eyes and starts the spell.

***

Derek must be dreaming. No, he _knows_ he’s dreaming. There a few things that support his theory but the biggest give away is the snow. 

It hasn’t snowed enough to stick to the ground for years and anyway, it wasn’t even the right season for snow, they’re in the middle of summer.

The last time the snow had stuck in Beacon Hills was probably when he was twelve or thirteen. He remembers the evergreens covered in snow and the preserve looking so _white_. He remembers when he and Laura helped his dad shovel the snow off the driveway and the crisp air of the winter morning. 

He turns around, ignoring the heavy weight on his chest, and freezes. His, no _their_ house, is in perfect condition, stark against the snow. He has to catch his breath for a moment because… he can hear voices and laughter from inside. Is that his mom? Or Laura?  The voices are so faint and indecipherable, which is strange on it’s own because he’s a freaking werewolf and he’s standing ten feet away from the porch, but he doesn’t care. He can hear people and they sound so _happy_.

He’s about to take a step onto the porch but a voice from behind stops him, this time completely loud and definitely clear.

“Derek.”

He turns around with a quick snap.

“Stiles?” He can’t help the incredulity from filling his tone.

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. “Bet you weren’t expecting me, huh?”

Derek takes a moment to respond “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here because you’re dead. Okay, no that was a bad opening. You look like you’re dead but it turns out you’re sleeping because hey look, you’re dreaming. Or are you dreaming? This could be more of a an in-between state that happens to people under the spell? Or people who appear dead.”

Derek can only stare at him. Stiles licks his lips, probably taking it as a cue to continue. “Okay, this is pretty hard to explain but you probably know more about it than me so how about I tell you what I know and you fill in the details?”

Derek doesn’t reply again and raises his eyebrows, waiting for Stiles to go on. 

“Okay, so after you and Scott went to the Alpha pack HQ, where apparently they’re building some sort of army-  and okay I’ll explain that part later but basically, Scott’s okay and he was able to get Isaac out but not Erica and Boyd. And there must’ve been a warlock there because you were attacked or something and probably tortured because you came back covered in blood. Also, the warlock did something to you that’s freaking everyone out, especially Isaac and Scott because apparently it’s super unsettling that they can sense your wolf even though you’re dead.”

Derek takes a moment before he can answer. He remembers now and it’s a bit like getting punched in the stomach with the memories. Kali’s red eyes flashing, the kid Edmund smirking at Derek. And then pain.  He remembers blacking out later...

“I look like I’m dead?” He asks Stiles and there must’ve been something in his voice because Stiles’ eyes grow soft and he nods.

“Yeah. You’re lucky the werewolves can sense your ‘wolf’ whatever that means, because if anyone else found you, you’d probably be buried alive,” Stiles pauses. “Actually, maybe if I found you, you’d still have a chance because of your magic buzz and all that, y’know it’’s actually-”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupts. “How are you even here?” And another thought occurs to him, something he should have asked earlier. “And tell me how long I’ve been out for.” 

“Relax. It hasn’t even been a whole day since you came back,” he hesitates. “And I’m kind of invading your dreams using my magic. It’s the only way I could think of to communicate with you and it’s kind of easier than I thought. Also, if you ever want to get out of this mess, you’re going to have to tell me every little detail you can remember so I can get you fixed and then maybe you can help with the pack alliance stuff if we need the help,” he pauses, probably reading Derek’s expression. “Oh no, don’t look at me like that. You’re giving me every detail because it’s your ass that I’m saving and there’s so much shit going down right now with the Alphas and we’re still trying to figure it out. So you’re still going to help with any other pack alliance stuff because you’re not getting out of this one, even if you might appear dead.”

Stiles crosses his arms and for the first time Derek notices that Stiles is wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Aren’t you feeling cold?” He doesn’t mean to ask it, but it slips out anyway.

Stiles looks so confused for a moment that it’s would’ve been comical. He uncrosses his arms. “Um, not really? Did you even hear what I just said?”

“I never said I wouldn’t help. You’re the one who just assumed that I wouldn’t agree. What else could I be doing anyway?” He adds the last part a little quietly, realising the truth of the situation. If he’s stuck being dead to the rest of the world…

“Why would I feel cold?” Stiles asks suddenly.

Derek raises his eyebrows, “Maybe because of the snow?”

“What are you - Oh,” Stiles stops and looks behind Derek. “Wow, Derek. Is that your house?”

“You couldn’t see it before?”

Stiles shakes his head and his eyes are bright as he looks up at the house and then around him. “I guess I can only see what you want me to see? Which, hey, means I’m not really breaking and entering into your mind unless you want me to. And oh my god, it’s so cold now. Wow, Derek do you control the weather too? Because if you do, do me a favour and turn the chill down.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “No I don’t control anything. This was just…here.” He turns around to look at the house again, standing in all it’s glory.

“Well, in that case… Can we maybe go inside? I need to talk to you more about what happened with the warlock and I don’t want to do that in the snow while I’m wearing a freaking t-shirt,” Stiles shivers and it definitely adds to his statement. Derek doesn’t reply and makes a move for the front door.

He can’t hear the voices anymore, in fact he can’t hear anything but Stiles’ steps behind him and the faint thump of his heart. 

Inside, the house looks exactly as he remembered. The rooms are all lit up with lamps and the stairway railing looks like it’s been recently polished. He turns towards the living room, where the fireplace is. There’s already a fire going, licking it’s way through the wood and Derek pauses in front of it, the memory of collecting wood with his mom not far from his thoughts. He turns to Stiles, who had been trailing a little wide-eyed behind him. “Sit down,” Derek says and nods towards the seat nearest to the fireplace. 

Stiles sits and Derek watches him, before turning to his dad’s favourite chair. He’s half-expecting everything to disappear as soon as he sits down. 

Stiles fidgets a little where he’s sitting, obviously suppressing whatever he’s dying to say. Derek reluctantly appreciates the effort.

“Tell me what you know about the Alpha pack and why you think making alliances would help. Then I’ll tell you what I remember about the warlock.”

Stiles is quiet for a moment, gazing at Derek with a curious expression. Derek stares right back.

“Okay,” Stiles nods finally. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything.”

***

Stiles doesn’t know how long he’s been… in Derek’s head. He’s explained Isaac’s theory of the Alphas recruiting while Derek listened, completely stone faced. Thankfully, Derek _was_ being an incommunicative bastard to Isaac and told Stiles about the pack from New York his sister had made an alliance with. He seemed uncomfortable talking about it so Stiles let it slide for now. He’ll dig up more information about the pack in New York later. What he’s more interested in is this kid, Edmund.

“So when you say you were suspended in mid-air, you mean actually floating, unable to attach your feet to the ground? Are you sure he didn’t draw any symbols, no runes?”

“I didn't see any,” Derek grits his teeth and Stiles gets the impression that he’s getting sick of the constant questions.  "I was kind of busy, if you remember."

Stiles puts his hands up defensively, “Hey, man. This is the first time I’m hearing of another warlock, don’t you think I’d have a few questions?”

Surprisingly, Derek stops glaring at that and looks away. Stiles gets the odd feeling that he’s hiding something. He narrows his eyes at Derek.

“What?” Derek says, after a few moments of Stiles trying to read him. When Stiles doesn’t supply an answer, it seems like Derek has reached his limit. He stands up and straightens his leather jacket. 

“Is there anything else? Or do you mind getting out of my head now?”

Stiles stands too. “Sure, okay. You’ve been stuck in your head all day with absolutely no communication with the outside world and now that you’re getting real information you’re not even grateful and you’re in a hurry for me to leave. It’s nothing unusual so I can’t say I’m surprised. Actually, being so isolated from the rest of the world might even be something that you _want_.” 

Stiles has no idea where the outburst came from. He hadn’t even realised that he’d taken a few steps forward until he noticed how close he’s standing to Derek, less than an arm’s length away.

Derek either doesn’t notice the proximity or he doesn’t care. He takes a deep and heavy breath before answering, his eyes practically on fire. “You really think that, Stiles? You think I enjoy being stuck here while my pack is in danger? You tell me Erica and Boyd might be a part of some crazy plan to build an army of werewolves and you think I’d rather be here than out there, getting them out of that place?” 

Stiles doesn’t reply immediately. He knows what Derek is saying is true. Despite certain flaws, Stiles is willing to admit that Derek isn’t always the bad guy. In fact, sometimes he’s actually the good guy and he obviously cares about his pack’s safety.

“Okay… I guess, the new plan is sticking to the old plan, then? Maybe I’ll go down with Scott, Isaac and a few other wolfy New Yorkers to scope out the the Alpha pack situation and get more info on this Edmund guy. I have a feeling the kid would know how to break your curse, since he’s the one who cast it. I’ve always been against kidnapping but if the situation calls for it…”

Derek looks sharply at Stiles then, his eyebrows contorting into a frown. “You can’t go back there. They’re too powerful and there’s too many of them.”

Stiles had a feeling he’d say something like that, “Pssh, you’re preaching to the choir here. Look, I know our little team’s lacking a bit in the number department but if we’re smart about it, we don’t need an army against an army. Everything isn’t about brute force and running headlong into situation, you know.” Stiles throws Derek a pointed look for extra measure, hoping Derek knows exactly why he’s on the receiving end of the look. Derek shouldn’t need reminding of all the times that sort of mentality has come pack to bite them all in the arse, but it helps to be thorough.

When Derek doesn’t reply, Stiles does a half-shrug, feeling a sort of awkwardness creep up at them. “Um, guess I should be heading then. Out. Of your head, I mean.”

Derek gives him a kind of exasperated look which, hey, it isn’t Stiles’ fault that all this is so strange.  

“I’ll drop by again once we have any new info you might want to hear,” he says and then refrains from doing  little wave goodbye. “I’ll see you, I guess.” He’s about to chant the spell to wake himself up when Derek stops him. 

“Wait,” Derek says and it sounds like the one syllable was ripped out of him. “Thanks.”

It isn't what Stiles is expecting and Derek looks a little surprised himself. 

“Yeah, anytime.” Stiles doesn’t wait for the moment to linger, he turns around and walks out of the living room. 


End file.
